


A Warrior's Path

by SalamanderInk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adorkable, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asgard is Prejudiced, BAMF Sif (Marvel), Feels, Fluffy Ending, Idiots in Love, Loki & Sif (Marvel) Friendship, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Matchmaker Sif, Protective Sif, Shovel Talk, Sif Feels, Sif is a Warrior, Sif is a good bro, Sif is not a bitch, Sif needs a hug, Vanir Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 07:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20831543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderInk/pseuds/SalamanderInk
Summary: Sif’s always been a warrior, but not always a good friend. Perhaps it’s time she learned that there are things more important than hiding from Asgard’s judgemental eyes. And perhaps it's time for her to gain back what she had lost.





	A Warrior's Path

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NamelesslyNightlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/gifts).

> This came from me seeing a post about Female Characters Who Deserved Better and it gave me Sif Feels.  
And it's all Lou's fault, because when I had hoped to foist it all off in someone else's hand in the Discord Server, she challenged me instead to write it, and make it quick and short.  
_coughcough_ Short, right.  
Anyway, it _was_ quick, since I managed to write and post this in all of three days. Which is fast. For me, at least.  
Anyway! Enjoy!  
And tell me what you think?  
We need more appreciation and great female characters in the world.

Sif was a warrior. She’d always been a warrior, even as a child when her mother forced her into too puffy dresses and put an embroidery set in her clumsy fingers. Her father used to put her on his knee and look into her ferociously pouting face and say: “This one, yes, she has a warrior soul.” And her mother would berate him for filling her head with nonsense. 

She had blamed him for it when Sif had rebelled, thrown the tantrum of the millennia and kicked her potential betrothed out at the same time. 

Sif was a warrior, long before she was a girl. 

But most people didn’t see it that way. 

They saw her, and they saw the pretty face, the golden spun hair and the lithe figure. In her warrior’s garb they watched her legs and whistled. They jeered and mocked her about husbands and hearth fires. 

She was used to it. She was aware of it. She didn’t care. She was a warrior and always would be. 

Loki wasn’t. 

From the first time she’d seen him, he’d been more sensitive, less likely to charge ahead or pull out butterflies’ wings. He’d have his nose in books or tend to the garden with his mother the Queen, practicing seidr and dancing. 

She’d loved it. His was a soul as brave as hers, as free and as rebellious, if in a quieter way. 

And he’d received just as many jeers as she had, if more hushed. One didn’t just mortally insult a member of the Royal Family, after all. Not on Asgard. 

Not at that time. 

Not yet. 

She had become his friend, as innocently as any child does. She was the warrior, he was the seidrmadr, the balm to her fire and her rage. 

It felt  _ right _ .

But other people didn’t see it in the same way. 

Oddities are easily ignored when they are alone, but when they group together, they form a pattern, they become a threat. 

A threat to what, she didn’t know. Probably she never could make sense of such small minded people. 

But social pressure is a nasty thing. Cruel… and powerful. 

Since the time they’d become friends, slurs and jeers and insults had redoubled against them both, and even Frigga’s might couldn’t save them from the repercussions. 

She could fight, she  _ knew _ fighting, but how does one fight against shadows and whispers? How does one fight against rumors and mobs? 

Loki did. Loki was willing to fight, his gentle eyes growing cold and flinty, his sweet smiles growing barbs, and how she’d admired him then. 

She might have been the warrior, but in that moment she was a coward. 

She still thought she’d made the right call, the right decision. But she couldn’t help but wonder, she couldn’t stop dwelling on the what-ifs. 

It wasn’t her way. She was a warrior. Warriors fought battles, and once won or lost, they grieved and moved on to the next one. 

But that was a battle she hadn’t fought. She’d deserted. 

She’d left Loki behind. 

They had talked about it, considered it. Loki had refused at first, refused to give in to the masses and their prejudices, refused to bow down to any word but that of the king himself. 

But she’d insisted. 

Being with her, being her friend had made him a target, she’d insisted. They would never stop being friends, they would only stop showing it outwardly, stop  _ flaunting _ it. She’d been gauche and cruel in her words, clumsy with guilt and fear. 

But he’d just bowed down to her will, gave up and agreed to her terms. 

She had done something right, though. She had made him her shield-brother, her friend of always and the one she held allegiance to. She’d sworn it on her golden hair, so prettily shining, as she’d asked him to turn it as black as his own. That way, she’d said, she’d always be wearing his colors, even though no one else would know what they meant. 

And she’d kept her word, as much as she could. 

As ineffective as it was. 

She was a warrior and an outcast, and since she couldn’t show her friendship with the other outcast, she’d forged ahead to make herself a place amongst the warriors. 

It wasn’t the same as it had been with Loki. She hadn’t been welcome, there hadn’t been any place for her that she hadn’t had to earn through blood and sweat and tears, sometimes her own but mostly not. 

It suited her. It was a place that she  _ made _ for herself and it was just as precious as the previous one, though it was never quite so comfortable. After all, her peers would always be looking at her sideways, wondering when she would “grow up” and start “seeing sense” and start behaving like a “real woman”, pop up a few kids and wait patiently at home for her  _ warrior husband _ to come back. 

As though she couldn’t make even the best of warriors eat the dust. 

But it was a place nonetheless, and soon enough she’d had them scared enough to  _ shut up _ about it. 

And then Thor had come. He’d looked dubious about it but challenged her nonetheless, and when she had  _ him _ spitting blood and dirt at her feet, he’d smiled, bloody and gleeful, and brought her into his circle of friends. 

She could recognize a ploy from Loki when she saw one. 

She was the one who was supposed to take care of him. She was the warrior after all, and yet, once again, he’d come to her rescue. 

Except it wasn’t really a rescue, and she also recognized his tact. He’d let her make her own place, he’d left her the place to  _ be the warrior _ . 

And she was  _ grateful _ . 

She was. 

She also felt  _ fucking guilty. _

Because now she had friends. She had a place, a legitimity. 

Loki didn’t. 

She wasn’t blind, she knew that, even after she’d left, the whispers hadn’t stopped. They’d grown more vicious, more pointed, more personal. Less so about letting a girl fight his battles for him, more so about his own character and skills. 

He’d always said he didn’t resent her for her choice, that it had been necessary for her in order to become the fierce and competent warrior she was, in order to make her own way in the world. He’d say that she’d had something to prove and it was better for her to have had the opportunity to do so. 

And yet.

The gentle boy she’d first befriended was hardly seen anymore. In his place was a cold untouchable prince, vicious with his words and sparse with his trust. 

They did meet, still. She could see glimpses of that youthful candor, a softness in his eyes when she started excitedly talking about weapon trivia that she knew he couldn’t care less about. But he would listen, for her. 

And yet those times became further and further away as the centuries went by, as the isolation and the scorn placed its toll on the young mage. 

He became rude and dismissive, even towards her sometimes, shutting himself off in his rooms, playing nastier and nastier tricks on the courtiers, leaving Asgard for years only to come back darker and angrier. 

Sif had despaired. She was a warrior and never had she felt so inadequate for it, because what worth were swords against heartaches? And what could she do to battle against rumors and whispers? 

What was she to do when her best friend turned into someone unrecognizable? 

What could she do when she knew it was only her own fault for having drawn their attention to him in the first place and then leaving him alone to flounder in it? 

She knew what was said about Loki, as well as she knew the rumors about herself. 

And she was even more helpless to stop them. 

Warriors didn’t like being powerless, and Sif had never born failure well. 

But she was adaptable and opportunistic. 

And she was observant. 

And, sometimes, not often, she was also a woman. 

And so it was that when she saw Loki look at the vanir boy with that soft look in his eye, she’d recognized it. 

And she’d thought that perhaps not all was lost for her old friend, perhaps he  _ could  _ have _ someone  _ stand by him where she hadn’t. 

She needed to make sure, of course. 

The boy had best be worthy and appreciative of her prince’s regard. Else he’d find himself… mysteriously indisposed. 

And he’d better have more nerve than she had, and be willing to stand proud at Loki’s side for all the world to see. 

Loki had been left behind too many times already. 

She’d watched, of course, from the sidelines, mostly helpless as the mess with Amora went down, as lovers came and went, looking for status and favors rather than companionship. 

She’d watched his heart harden more and more and his smiles all but disappear. 

Until now. Until that  _ boy.  _

Oh he wasn’t really that young, the new Lord Stark, though his demeanor could have one fooled at first glance. A bit of an eccentric, loud and brash, always moving. And she truly didn’t think he was staying around Loki while hoping for a rise in status. He was acquainted with Thor, after all, and the golden prince was notoriously easier to fool than Loki. And it seemed as though there were as many people vying for Stark’s attention as there had been at Loki’s door.

She liked that vanir, though. Watching him had shown a shrewd and cunning mind, a certain ruthlessness in business masked by a charming persona, and a deep loyalty and protectiveness to his close friends. 

She rather thought Loki could beneficiate from such care. 

And, if she allowed herself to contemplate further, perhaps Lord Stark could also do with a bit more of Loki’s particular brand of appreciation. 

So, not status, nor tricks; he didn’t seem the sort and his reputation confirmed it. And she didn’t doubt Loki would have ferreted out such bad intentions long before she had. 

The thought sent a mournful pang in her heart. She yearned for the naive bright-eyed child she’d first befriended, the one who hadn’t looked beyond her own bright energy and enthusiasm, just smiled at her and gave her a place by his side. 

But that was what she was here for, for that softness she saw in him when he was with Stark. 

It was precious. And fragile. 

She could only hope…

She was a warrior, Loki’s warrior. And she would protect that softness as much as she could, from the sidelines where she’d put herself. 

Perhaps if she could pass that duty to one worthier, she could finally find peace. Perhaps if she could see the laughter come back to her friend’s lips, she could lay down her guilt. 

But if Lord Stark showed himself too cowardly to stand by Loki’s side against the trials he faced? Then he didn’t deserve to be there at all. 

She would know, after all. 

But Loki still had his own heart. They were merely dancing around each other at this point, intrigue and interest the only thing connecting the two. She’d caught it soon enough that running the lad off would leave Loki unharmed still. 

And yet, that look made her hope she would not have to. 

That was on her mind while she went to confront him. 

She didn’t try to be stealthy, didn’t try to surprise him; she knew such tactics were unlikely to work against the man who had knocked out the five brawlers who’d tried to get the jump on him behind the tavern.

She did however make sure to come by at a moment when Loki was otherwise occupied and unlikely to interrupt. He’d always get grumpy when she “meddled”. 

Though she didn’t think he usually minded when she fulfilled her self appointed duty to give the “shovel talk”, she was also aware that it was different this time. This time Loki didn’t  _ want _ his suitor to leave, to run off with his tail between his legs. 

And yet that was exactly why she had to do it. 

She found Stark unimpressed and unsurprised, his charming persona nowhere in sight. 

All the better. She wasn’t in the mood for bullshit. 

She didn’t like thinking of the repercussions it would have if he proved himself unworthy. 

But, as he stood before her, serious and businesslike, she couldn’t help but feel the hope grow in her heart that this one, maybe, could be it. 

“So. You’re the best friend Loki warned me about.”

Sif blinked. 

_ What? _

Unwittingly, she could feel herself smiling. Not only at the fact that Loki knew her so well, well enough to expect her actions there, and to probably have a good idea as to her motivations, but also at the fact that, even after all this time, and as scarcely as they saw each other, he still considered her his best friend. It was a strange sort of wound, Loki deserved better friends than her, and yet she couldn’t help but feel flattered. 

“And you’re the upstart who’s made my prince’s head turn.” 

That made Stark laugh. It was a good laugh, genuine, a little abashed. Clearly fond.

These were the things that let her know she was not just a warrior, but also a lady. This was what made her lethal on _ and off _ the battlefield. Skills she’d learned in her mother’s parlor, how to read laugher, intentions. Inflections. It was those skills she relied on now. 

Loki had always told her that things were not so clear cut, not so closed off as people would have her believe. She’d always kept that advice close to her heart, lest other people learn of it and start treating her as a baby-making machine again. 

But in those moments, she was grateful to have kept those skills honed, to have cultivated more subtle forms of warfare than those on a blade’s edge. 

Loki had helped her with that. 

She would wager that this young lord hadn’t needed Loki’s help at all. 

His eyes were still sharp, though she could see the barest softening at the mention of the one her people were more likely to spit on than trust. 

It boded well. 

“I do hope that you mean Loki and not Thor. As nice as he is, big, blonde, and buff really isn’t my type.” 

A teasing smirk, a friendly jibe at Thor, Sif could absolutely see what attracted Loki to that man. 

A man who easily expressed his preference for the second, less popular prince. 

Yes. Perhaps he could be what Loki needed, be there where she couldn’t. Perhaps he would succeed in putting a smile back upon her prince’s face. 

“I do hope “easy” isn’t your type either, in this case.”

Sif could already see the man’s eyes narrow at the perceived insult. She had never been agile with words. 

“Loki is not well liked amongst the Aesir,” she explained, because she had no wish to ever speak poorly of her friend. “Anyone wishing to enter a relationship with him will be met with hardships and mockeries. Standing by his side is a hard task not many could bear.” 

She hadn’t, after all. 

“But then, a cherished one breaking their oath to remain by his side would certainly find themselves in much direr straits.”

Her face grew somber, flickers of distaste for the leeches who’d pretended they wanted to only to leave at the worst times, usually in a backhanded manner. She’d made sure they would regret dearly such a slight. 

It had been her  _ pleasure _ , avenging her prince’s honor. 

And she knew Loki himself could bring down his own kind of revenge. 

It never stopped her. It was her privilege, and at the same time her curse. For her revenge would always be one in the shadows, her connection to Loki hidden and wrought in secrets. 

Sometimes she wished she could be his personal guard, be there to nip such duplicitous behavior in the bud. She’d wanted to put those rascals in the stocks. She’d settled for a good beating. And, in one ignominious case, a culling. 

She would not hesitate to do the same to Stark himself should he prove himself so dishonorable. 

But the man didn’t look worried. If anything, he looked entertained. 

Sif could already feel the headache coming. Just that simple expression reminded her all too well of Loki’s more playful moments, and the face he would make when he “humored” her rants. 

The two didn’t look a bit alike, and couldn’t be more different in the way they presented themselves, and yet she could only see the glaring similarities between them. 

Asgard should tremble at the thought of what trouble they could brew together, but once again they were too blind to look beyond Lord Stark’s “respectable” front to see the impish smile of a mischief maker who could very likely equal Loki. 

More fools they. 

Sif found she rather looked forward to it. 

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to worry about, sweetheart. I don’t suffer fools easily.”

And  _ there _ was something of that new Loki, cold and ruthless, the kind of darkness that made enemies quail and allies falter. Strangely enough, it reassured her. Not only would he not let the spitefulness of the masses get to him, but he would not run scared either when that vindictive side of Loki showed. 

Perhaps that was all she could do for the moment. She doubted that he would open up to her anymore than he had. 

She would let the “endearment” pass. Though perhaps not without making her position clear. 

“You know, people who misuse their dicks tend to lose them around these parts. I’d be careful if I were you.”

The guffaw that followed was good natured, and followed her as she turned to go, strangely bolstered by the encounter. 

Perhaps she could become that man’s friend also. Perhaps he would be what she’d been waiting for. Perhaps Loki would finally find his happiness. 

She would  _ tentatively _ give them her blessings. 

“Hey, scary lady!”

Sif turned back, surprised. Lord Stark was leaning on his desk with a cocky smirk and a strange glint in his eye. 

“Loki and I plan on visiting the orchard the day after tomorrow. You’re welcome to join us, I know Loki would thrilled.”

Sif blinked again, flabbergasted. Was it normal for this man to respond to intimidation in that way? Most men quaked in their boots when their manhood was on the line. 

Did he think she was bluffing?

“My  _ name _ is  _ Sif _ .” 

And she had a reputation with that name. She didn’t make idle threats. She never had.

Against all common sense, the man only smiled wider. 

“Well, then, Sif, you can call me Tony. We’ll be seeing you two days from now, right? Right. Can’t wait. Loki would be over the moon, if there was a moon in that flat abomination of a land. Bye then. It was nice to meet you!”

Sif could only blink at the sheer  _ gall _ . And at the fact that she’d apparently been roped into third-wheeling their date. Unless they weren’t dating yet? 

A small smile curled her lip. One didn’t spend decades as Loki’s friend without appreciating the potential for mischief. 

Perhaps she would finally get to repay him for sending Thor her way all those centuries ago. 

And perhaps she would get to be the one to finally get the jump on him. For once. 

***

Loki and Lord Stark—Tony were not dating. 

She had looked into it, observed carefully, asked the servants. They did not sleep in the same room, they did not touch or kiss or even  _ dine _ together. For all intents and purposes they were acquaintances, friends at best, and even suggesting otherwise had brought on dismissive, pitying, or even scornful looks she did not care for. They were used to her checking on the prince, and chances were they were convinced she was yet another pining fool, or perhaps one looking to better their status by getting Loki’s favor. 

Servants were never as loyal to Loki as they were to Thor, but in this case it served her purposes rather well. 

Her poor Loki, pining like a fool and not making a move on the one man who held his affections. 

She felt like cackling. Or giggling. 

Or perhaps, and she felt herself soften at the ludicrous fantasy, perhaps he had been waiting for her to give her blessing, for her approval of this suitor? 

As unlikely as it seemed, Tony’s words earlier made her consider the idea more seriously. He had said Loki considered her his best friend, and that he’d been expecting her to speak to the vanir. 

Which implied that he’d been aware of her... activities. That he knew of the  _ talks  _ she’d had with his previous… conquests, and probably of the retribution she’d taken out on their hides. 

And perhaps that gave a new, different frame in which to consider their various conversations along those years. Those times when he’d asked for her thoughts on them, times she’d thought he was merely humoring her “need to have opinions on everything and fight against the entire world”. 

And indeed he had rather followed her advice, in his own way. Much subtler than what she would have done herself. But then, she was a warrior. She faced her problems head on, sword in hand. 

Loki was always one to give people enough rope to hang themselves. And while people usually called him vindictive because of it, Sif never did. Let the punishment fit the crime was her philosophy, and truly, what better way to deal with frauds but to expose them? 

It was certainly less bloody than her way. 

It was jarring to think of what this meant. How highly Loki valued her opinion nonetheless, how much he’d been aware of her. She hardly knew what to make of it. 

And of course if this was the case,  _ of course _ he would wait for her go-ahead before leaving his heart on the line. Of course he pined instead of making a move, because maybe, perhaps, against all odds… Loki still cared for her. 

Of course he did, she knew that, but she hadn’t considered just  _ how much.  _

Tony’s words echoed in her mind again.  _ Loki’s best friend. _ Was she?

She wanted to be. 

And maybe, with time, she would feel worthy of the title again.

The orchard was empty when she arrived. The sun barely rising, the apples shining bright and golden in the gentle glow of the sky. 

A faint shuffling of air alerted her that she was no longer alone, the soft sound of leather boots treading the grass. 

“Loki.” 

She didn’t have to turn around to know who’d come so silently. There was no one else on Asgard quite so sensitive to people’s moods. Aès were generally more of the “barge in like a raging bilgesnipe and flatten everything in the way” variety. 

“Have you been here long?” 

Pleasantries. From Loki. 

What was the world coming to? 

Sif smiled as she turned. A nervous and smitten Loki was a rare thing indeed, his awkwardness to be savored. It was quite entertaining, that role reversal. How many times had Loki teased her for her crushes? 

And how many times had he helped her, insured her privacy and her lovers’ silence?

“Not that long.”

Loki didn’t  _ look _ nervous. But then, that blank face and averted eyes were telling enough. 

“Is lover boy coming soon?” 

A faint pink blush rose high on his cheekbones as Loki’s head snapped to her, green eyes wide with shock. 

Oh yes, he was definitely a goner. 

He cleared his throat before getting a hold of his expression and smirking at her. 

“I thought we could talk, first.” 

“Mmmh.” 

Somehow, it didn’t really surprise Sif, especially considering all that she’d been considering the past few days. And yet, this was hardly his preferred method of getting answers. It rather lacked subtlety. 

But then, never let it be said that Sif backed down from a challenge. 

“When are you planning to start courting Lord Stark?”

Hearing such a strangled sound coming from her usually so composed prince was delicious. It almost seemed like an appropriate payback for the time he’d teased her for her crush on Fandral. (She was young and stupid, enough said.)

She could understand why he did, though. This was highly entertaining. 

“Well?” 

There was something adorably innocent to Loki’s embarrassment. A sort of nervous hope in his voice, in the twitching of his fingers. 

Sif took in all of this, then decided she could be patient. Let him take his time. This was important. 

When he  _ did  _ speak, Loki was hesitant. Each word was weighed carefully, as if he were unsure of what would actually come out of his mouth. 

And rightly so, seeing what a load of bollocks it was. 

“I… had thought to wait for an opportune moment.” 

Sif nodded along indulgently. If Loki wanted to lie to himself and wait for an elusive “opportune moment”, it wasn’t her job to tell him to grow a pair. 

And as they walked along the paths, basking in the calming sway of heavy branches, the gentle ruffle of leaves, she could only roll her eyes fondly as her friend hid his fretting in inane conversation. 

It  _ would be _ her job to tease him to hell and back about it. 

But only once the situation was resolved with the two idiots happily married. 

At the moment, she had  _ another _ duty to perform, as Loki’s best friend. 

Her eyes glinted as she heard the sound of heavy breathing coming closer, a man rushing to reach them. Out of breath already, probably thinking he was late and not that whatever distractions kept him from being there on time were of Loki’s own design. Poor sod still had a lot to learn. 

_ There _ was their missing party. 

And as Tony careened into their path, she made sure to stand aside just at the right place, and extend her leg just at the right moment… 

She was a warrior, but she was also a friend of Loki’s. And that meant that when her best friend told her he was waiting for the right moment... it might not be her job to tell him to grow a pair, but it  _ was _ her job to  _ engineer  _ that right moment. 

And, watching a flailing Lord Stark fall right into Loki’s waiting arms, she couldn’t help but think that sometimes, there were ways much more satisfying than that of the warrior. 

She caught Loki’s frantic eyes with a wink and a smirk, wiggling her eyebrows in a most obnoxious way. 

It worked, aggravation erasing the mounting panic on Loki’s face before he sent her a grateful look and shifted his attention back to the man in his arms. His expression was so tender she felt herself soften in turn. 

That was her cue to leave. 

Sif was a warrior, she’d always been a warrior. But as she left the grove with her chest filled with warmth, she rather thought that she wouldn’t mind if people knew her as Loki’s friend, once again. 

His best man, maybe. Or his best guard. 

It just felt  _ right. _

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you thought!  
I hope you enjoyed :3


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